Category Poetry

The Gaze Blank and Pitiless

WB Yeats’ poem “The Second Coming” was written almost exactly a century ago, but if it’s possible for a poem to become truer still with age, then surely this one does.

And yet…Yeats wrote his poem in 1919, in the aftermath… Continue reading The Gaze Blank and Pitiless

West of Caritas

“The Conversion of Saul” by Michelangelo, Pauline Chapel fresco, Vatican City.

 

This “I” we each inherit, made spine

of the world, axis, pole,

look-out from the world’s helm

gazing on the universe,

gazing on you,

gazing on death…

 

“Mummy,” I said,

seven or eight years old,

“I have decided

that I am God.”

We were walking east

along Glebe Road

towards the… Continue reading West of Caritas

Word Play

“What is the purpose of poetry ?” I ask myself. Sometimes I find this question simple to answer. And sometimes the answer itself  is simple. The purpose of poetry is to work.… Continue reading Word Play

I See Everywhere the False

I thought this was true in 2014, when it was written. I did not know then that the truth can become truer.… Continue reading I See Everywhere the False

Counting

This poem seems to follow on a bit from the previous one uploaded here. But whereas I wrote “I Insist my Ribs…” over three years ago, “Counting” has been written in the last few days.

I have a vague idea of what… Continue reading Counting

I Insist my Ribs Contain Stars

I like the idea of mayhem in the crematorium…… Continue reading I Insist my Ribs Contain Stars

Kenwood in May

This short poem was written more than ten years ago.

Kenwood is a fine mansion on the northern edge of Hampstead Heath, London. It and its grounds are managed by English Heritage and open to the public. It is a deservedly popular… Continue reading Kenwood in May

Facing West over a Small Field

Here is a link to a poem about the poet D.J. Enright and his French wife, the artist Madeleine Enright. (See one of her pictures, above). They belonged in worlds quite foreign to me, but in the last few months of their lives, I chanced to… Continue reading Facing West over a Small Field

The Blue Field

This poem was written over ten years ago, when flying was still a safe assumption and planes were common overhead. This year we’ve been been hearing less of the planes, but – thankfully – the swifts are still with us.… Continue reading The Blue Field

Anthem for a Lying Toad

The UK’s Brexit government have been showing us their true mettle in recent weeks. Following their disastrous response to the Covid-19 virus, they are itching to move on to enterprises more to their liking, but equally vulnerable to their incompetence. It has been said that “The Sleep of Reason Brings Forth Monsters” (it’s the title… Continue reading Anthem for a Lying Toad

Copyright © Rogan Wolf – Poet and Social Worker
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